


They Talked

by ConsentFest, unadulteratedstorycollector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Nightmares, Self-Esteem Issues, Supportive Ron Weasley, consent in friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsentFest/pseuds/ConsentFest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector
Summary: Is it ok if they talk? Draco isn't sure, but it keeps happening.





	They Talked

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my lovely beta. I hope you all like this. I needed some platonic Draco/Ron in my life. I think consent is a really interesting thing, and that it can be so easy to miss it within friendly interactions. The idea of Draco and Ron being friends makes me happy.

The first time they talked to each other was about twenty minutes after the war was officially over. Ron begrudgingly asked him if he’d like a cup of tea, and Draco had been too shell shocked to say no. Ron had made sure to “forget” to add any sugar, but Draco hadn’t said anything. Maybe he didn’t deserve sugar anymore. Maybe he should live a sugarless life.

The second time they talked was when the letter came through saying that they could re-do their final year at Hogwarts, should they wish. Draco had gathered all the courage he had and written to the three of them asking if they were going to take up the offer. Asking if they minded him taking it up. Begging them to forgive him. Harry had been the first to write back. “Sure,” he’d said, “why would I not want you to finish your education? I’ll see you in September. You’re all good, I forgive you.” Hermione was next “Perhaps we should talk more about the past, face to face. I read this fantastic book over the summer. It is a Muggle book, but perhaps it would do you good to start integrating into Muggle society a bit more…” It was a very long and very accurate letter. Ron had written last. “Whatever.”

The third time they talked was on the first day of ‘eighth year’. Harry had asked if he could sit next to him and Ron had stared at Harry for a full five minutes before slumping down in the seat opposite. Draco hadn’t dared ask what was happening. He was the only Slytherin returning, and as part of the new school system, the school was being housed in years, rather than Houses. First year Slytherins with first year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and so on. And so, all the eighth years were sat together, and he was just grateful someone had sat next to him. “Pass the potatoes,” Ron had said around a mouthful of carrot. Draco hadn’t said anything as he passed them over, but Ron had said “thank you” and it felt like more than Draco deserved.

The fourth time they talked was when they were paired together for potions. They were making a variant of pepper-up that was supposed to soothe a migraine. “My mum used to make this for me when I was younger,” Ron had mumbled, chopping ingredients without looking at the recipe. He had shocked himself by replying “mine too.” They worked in almost silence, neither of them looking at the instructions, working together like there was nothing between them.

The fifth time they talked Ron had asked him if he wanted to play a game of Wizards chess. He’d said yes, unsure of what was happening. For the first time in his life someone had beaten him. He found he had more fun when he lost.

The sixth time they talked was when Ron had asked if he wanted a hug in a sleepy mumble when he’d woken up screaming.Ron had climbed into his bed, head and tails with him. He cried into his pillow, the weight next to him soothing. “Is this ok?” Ron had asked as he rubbed his leg. Draco had said yes almost before Ron had finished asking the question, the gentle hand grounding him and reminding him he wasn’t alone. He’d felt too embarrassed to say anything the next day, not sure what happened. “It’s what I do for Harry,” Ron had offered, and that seemed good enough.

The seventh time they talked was at the beginning of the Christmas holidays. Draco wasn’t returning home. Harry, Ron and Hermione weren’t returning home either. Draco didn’t want to ask, but he was in their dorm room when Dean Thomas asked about it, and Ron said that he couldn’t have sex with Hermione at his house without his mum hearing, so they were only going over on Christmas eve. He’d felt awkward being in the room, like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d asked if they wanted him to leave, but Ron had looked at him like he was crazy, shaking his head and asking him why he wasn’t going home, and he’d answered truthfully. “It doesn’t feel like home much anymore.” Ron had nodded, clapping him on the shoulder.

The eighth time they talked was at Midwinter Festival in Hogsmeade. Hermione had asked Draco to join them, and had talked to him all the way into the village. They’d stood by the bonfire, watching it burn, and Draco had felt her hand in his before he realised he was shaking. Then she and Harry had disappeared to go and find mulled wine and mince pies, leaving Draco alone with Ron. “My mother used to have big parties at Midwinter… I always hated them.” He hadn’t known why he said it. “My mum used to tell us that story about finding your true love at Midwinter so that you were ready to fuck at Beltane.” Ron had replied. He’d expressed his disbelief at Molly Weasley saying fuck and Ron had said he was paraphrasing. Draco had admitted his mum told him that story too. They’d grimaced over shared memories of Wizarding traditions.

Draco stopped counting the times they talked after that. It seemed to happen most days, with a sort of ease he’d never had before. Ron didn’t expect much from him. He didn’t want anything. Just to play chess, or mess around on their brooms, or to explain Muggles to him if he didn’t understand something. And he found he didn’t want anything either. Just to be around them, to hang out with them. To be their friend. He asked once if they minded him hanging out with them, and Ron had laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Why would we mind? You’re one of us now.” One of them. The thought had warmed Draco for months. Had supported him as he told his father he wasn’t going to run the family businesses, and was going to become an Auror instead. Had helped him during those moments when he thought that maybe he should have just died.

A long time after Draco stopped counting the amount of times they talked he found himself at his house, watching a Muggle TV and drinking a beer with Ron. Ron’s son Hugo was on his lap, drinking from a bottle of milk. He turned to look up at Draco and Draco smiled at him. “Milk!” Hugo said. It was the first time he talked.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to think about how consent is important in friendships as well as romantic relationships. In the aftermath of the war, I imagined that Draco would find it necessary to look for consent in lots of places. I also wanted to show how easy consent was within average life.


End file.
